"But, Kyrie, I can't," he said. He put his hands on his head, grabbing a handful of his straight black hair on either side. "I can't do that. He told me he'd kill himself, and the Great Sky Dragon said he meant it."
"He would kill himself," Kyrie said. "If he had to be . . . beholden to the Great Sky Dragon, yes. But don't you see in this case he doesn't have to? Even if he finds out I asked for help, I'll be the one he's mad at, you see. I'll be the one who is indebted to the triads. He's not."
Conan looked at her, blinking, and it took her a moment to realize he was fighting back tears. "I'm not sure he's not right, Kyrie," he said, pitifully. "If I had any choice, now—which I don't—I'd choose not to belong to the Great Sky Dragon, too." And seeing Kyrie flinch, he must have realized what she'd thought, because he smiled. "I don't know if he's still listening to me, no. He might be. Or he might have turned off when Tom told him he wouldn't allow me to follow him around." A small frown. "I don't think so, though, or Mr. Lung would have told you that you needed to do something else to get his attention, than just have me around. He didn't, so I guess . . . Himself is watching. And he now knows I'd prefer not to belong to him, which is fine. I would. If he didn't know that before . . ." Conan shrugged. "I don't think he cares. I'm not important like Tom and I never had a choice."
Kyrie sighed. In her mind only one thing mattered right now. She didn't want to appear callous towards Conan. She even liked Conan in a way, though he was definitely one of the strays that Tom was so prone to picking up. But she didn't have time or patience, just now, to discuss his philosophy of life. "Does this mean you won't help?" she asked.
"No," Conan said. "It doesn't. I'll help, of course. It's not like I have a choice, you know. I have to help. Or die. And I'm not ready to die."